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"Grandmother's not going to like it," Clara Sue insisted. She glared at me. "You were named after her dead sister. It was a sacred gift. You should be grateful that you have a name like that instead of something stupid."
"My name is not stupid."
"Dawn for a name?" Clara Sue responded. Her laughter mocked me.
"Shut up," Philip snapped.
"Oh, please, Clara Sue!" Mother cried. "No controversy tonight. I'm so exhausted." She turned to me to explain. "It's always overwhelming when the summer people first come and we have to remember everyone's name and make them feel at home. None of us are permitted to be tired, or unhappy, or sick when Grandmother Cutler requires us to be present," she added, a note of bitterness in her voice. She tossed an icy glance at Father, but he rubbed his hands together and smiled as if he hadn't heard her.
"Well, now," he said. "Here we are, all of us, finally together. We have a great deal for which to be thankful. Isn't it wonderful? And what better way to make Dawn part of the family than to have her play something for us," Father said.
"Something soothing, please, Dawn," Mother pleaded. "I couldn't stand any rock and roll right now," she moaned, swinging her eyes at Clara Sue, who looked uncomfortable and very unhappy about being here.
"I don't know any rock and roll," I said. "There's a piece Mr. Moore, my music teacher, taught me. It was one of his favorites. I’ll try to remember it," I said.
I was happy that they were all going to remain in the bedroom with Mother while I went out to the piano in the sitting room. At least I didn't have to play with Clara Sue glaring at me, I thought. But when I sat down, Philip came in and stood by my side, staring at me so intently, I felt myself begin to tremble.
I tested the notes the way Mr. Moore had instructed and I found the piano in tune.
"That's quite a song," Clara Sue quipped, hoping to make fun of me; but no one laughed.
"Relax," Philip said. "You're with your family now," he added, touching my shoulder. He gazed back at the doorway and quickly planted a kiss on my neck. "For good luck," he said quickly when I looked up surprised.
Then I closed my eyes and tried to shut the world out just the way I used to back at Emerson Peabody. With the first note I slipped softly into my musical kingdom, a land where there were no lies and sickness, no dreary skies and hateful days, a world full of smiles and love. If there was a wind, it was gentle, just strong enough to caress the leaves. If there were clouds, they were mushy white and as soft as downy silk pillows.
My fingers touched the ivory and beg
an to move over the keyboard as though they had a mind of their own. I felt the notes flow from the piano up my arm, the music circling about me protectively, creating a cocoon of security. Nothing could touch me, not jealous eyes or ridiculing laughter. Resentment, bitterness, derogatory words of any kind were forgotten for the moment. I even forgot Philip was standing nearby. When I was finished, it was a letdown. The music lingered like a shadow calling to me to go on. My fingers tingled and hovered over the keys, my eyes remained closed.
I opened them at the sound of the ovation. Father had come into the doorway to clap, and Philip applauded beside me. I heard my mother's gentle applause, too, and Clara Sue's quick salvo.
"Wonderful," my father said. "I'll speak to Mother. Maybe we'll have you play for the guests."
"Oh, I couldn't."
"Sure you could. What do you think, Laura Sue?" he called.
"It was beautiful. Dawn!" she cried. I got up. Philip was beaming, his eyes dancing with happiness. I returned to my mother's bedroom, and she surprised me by holding her arms out. I approached her and let her embrace me. She kissed me softly on the cheek, and when I pulled back, I saw tears in her eyes, but there was something in the way she gazed at me that made me tremble and hesitate. I sensed she saw something else in me, something I did not know existed. She was looking at me, but not exactly at me.
I questioned her with my eyes, searching her face for understanding. Now that I was this close to her, I saw how tiny her eyelashes were, how diminutive were her facial features, features I had inherited. Her eyes were dazzling, I thought, unable to take my gaze from the soft blue that twinkled with mystery as well as jeweled beauty. I spotted some faint freckles under them, just where mine were. Her skin was so translucent, I could see the tiny blue veins at the corners of her eyes, mapped out along her temples.
How delightfully sweet she smiled—her hair filled with the fragrance of jasmine. And how silky and soft her cheek had felt against mine. No wonder my father loved her so, I thought. Despite her nervous condition, she maintained a healthy, vibrant appearance, and she was as precious and lovely as any woman could be.
"That was so beautiful," she repeated. "You must come up often and play for me. Will you?"
I nodded and then glanced at Clara Sue. Her face was red and swollen with envy, her eyes burning, her mouth firm, her lips so taut they caused little patches of whiteness to appear in the corners. She clenched her fingers into puffy little balls in her lap and continued to glare at me.
"I've got to see Grandmother," she said, standing up quickly.
"Oh, already?" Mother cried mournfully. "You've just returned from school, and we haven't had time to gossip like we do. I so enjoy hearing about your friends at school and their families."
"I don't gossip," Clara Sue snapped unexpectedly, swinging her eyes at me and then back to Mother quickly.
"Well, I just meant—"
"Grandmother says we're very busy now, and we don't have time to lollygag around."
"Oh, how I hate those expressions," Mother said, grimacing. "Randolph?" she appealed.
